Little Faith
by katiaroza
Summary: Empty, desolate, lonely. Those were the only words to describe such a place. A Seattlelite girl leaves her home, only to end up alone and confused on the vast plains of Rohan. That is, until a certain HorseLord shows up... Language, drug ref, you know.
1. Outweighed By Forces Greater

This is pretty much my first LotR fanfic ever, so plz be nice to me. I know that my other fic was a complete catastrophy, but I'm thinking of re doing it. I'm pretty sure that this one wont be a Mary Sue, but plz warn me if it starts exhibiting signs of such. It might seem Mary Sue at the beginning, but plz wait for the next chapter before you judge. Suggestions are always welcome!

Warnings: Rated for implied drug use and a lot of drug reference. There will be language if there is none already. Apart from that, this is a pretty clean story.

Disclaimers: I think we all know that nothing from LotR belongs to me. It all belongs to the great Tolkein.

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**Little Faith**

**Chapter One: Outweighed By Forces Greater**

She sat lethargically on her futon day bed with her long black locks of hair spilling down over the shoulders of her slight frame. The intense beams of morning sunlight came in through her open window mixed with the light ocean breeze rolling off of the Pacific.

Outside, the seagulls were crying and the fishermen were bringing in the day's haul.

On this sunny day, all of the people that this teenage girl knew were out playing basket ball, or down at the beaches soaking in the sunlight. But she was stuck inside, doing nothing, hoping for something to happen. Though, she knew that nothing would.

Nothing ever happened at this house, in this pathetic Seattle suburb. It was all just sit around, eat, sleep, watch TV and get high.

At least, that was the way it went for her parents. They would either disappear to their room or to the den and come back a while later completely stoned out of their minds. That was the general routine for many nights and almost every weekend.

Well, at the very least, they had always managed to provide exceptionally well for her. Both parents had standard paying jobs and somehow made amazing financial decisions. They, as a family, had never been considered poor, or even close to that. She had always been grateful for things like that, it was just the marijuana she had a problem with. They loved her, she knew that, but she rarely ever saw the people that her parents really were. Meaning, their true characters always seemed to be overcast by the pot smoke.

A sudden low grumbling sound the erupted from the teen girl's stomach, knocking her out of her thoughts and causing her to realize that she hadn't eaten in almost twenty-four hours. She then figured it best to go and get something in her gut. Maybe then she could go and try and find a friend's place to stay at for the next night. She often did that, because she often got really fed up of seeing her parents stoned all the time. She would only stay for a night or two, she was always welcomed at her friends' houses. And, her parents never really cared where she went.

The kitchen was a mess, as usual, the teen found when she reached her destination. It wasn't unsanitary or anything obscenely gross like that, but there were dishes in the sink that needed washing, there was a pot of chili still on the stove, and a bagette loaf on the island counter half cut up.

She pulled a half a loaf of bread out of the pantry and popped a couple of pieces in the toaster which some how always avoided its proper place.

The teen girl then noticed that her parents weren't up yet. And no wonder, either. It was about seven thirty on a Saturday morning. They were still probably fast asleep, trying to get yesterday's stash out of their systems.

Soon, her breakfast popped up and she sat down at the cluttered table and began her 'meal'. It was uneventful, as per usual. She glanced briefly through one of her mother's magazines that was carelessly thrown aside onto the table. There were no interesting articles or anything else that caught her eye, so she soon discarded it back onto the messy table.

The raven haired teen looked up at the sound of muffled voices coming from her parent's room down the hall. She knew that they would only be up for a few moments before falling right back to sleep. Neither would even come out into the living room.

She then left for her own room which was down another hall, separate form her parent's room in this nicely sized bungalow. Her feet moved her towards the mirror that hung on the wall above her desk. She scanned her reflection which stared back at her through the mirror. Dark circles hung under her eyes from the lack of the sleep that she often needlessly forced upon herself. Her lips were dry and chapped and her long black hair flowed messily down her shoulders and to her breasts which looked small under her tight grey camisole. In fact, her entire form looked small and androgynous under her cami and black boxer shorts that were her pajamas.

Her gaze slowly wandered back to her sunken face. She would have to put make up on, yes, before she left anywhere, that was an almost daily task for her. Not that she was self-conscious or beauty-obsessed, or anything of the sort, but she _did_ look nicer with her make up on.

She proceeded in dressing herself in something of her usual attire. She didn't worry about bathing herself, for she had done so the night before. She wore black, as she always did, that was just the way she was. A lot of people thought oddly of her for being so dark in disposition, but hey, that's what you got when both of your parents were stoners.

Her shirt was stiff cotton, collared that buttoned up in the front with a dark blue tank top underneath and her pants were baggy black cargos with a studded black leather belt. She wore an assortment of jewellery. Her necklaces consisted of a chain fastened there by a small lock, a golden ankh, and a small YinYang that she got from the Fisherman's Market downtown. There were a whole variety of bracelets adorning her wrists. They ranged from silver Indian bangles, to those plastic 'Sex Bracelets' which were held in almost every store, to a black cord that was tied loosely around her wrists. She put a few silver rings, primarily the large one that went on her right ring finger, decorated as a silver moon surrounded by silver stars. She did nothing to her hair, being perfectly satisfied with her natural curls that ran down her shoulders.

In preparation to leave, she took a medium sized black duffle back she got when she was on her school's soccer team, and filled it varying objects. There was her pj's (she didn't like sleeping in her cloths all that much), her sketch book (there were some new drawings in there that she wanted to show her friend), her CD case and player (for a bit of music), a change of clothes, make up and a whole bunch of seemingly needless crap.

She picked up her black 'Kamelot' zip-up hoodie on her way out of her room, just incase the wind decided to pick up in the near future. Not wanting her parents to freak out too badly, she left a note on the kitchen table, saying that she was indeed going to a friends house for the next day or two.

With everything being taken care of, she left her house, locking the door on the way out. She may have lived in a suburb, but they were still pretty close to downtown and you never knew what kind of people wandered down from there.

On her way down her driveway, a western breeze caught her, the scent of the ocean on it. The teen inhaled deeply, she loved being greeted by the ocean's wind in the morning. It was the one thing that she looked forward to when she got up for school in the morning.

Luckily, her friend's house was west of hers, meaning she would be walking right into these winds on her way. The path she took was one that she knew all too well. Ever since she was nine years old, she had taken this path back and forth to get to her friend's house and back.

She soon reached an empty lot. The 'meeting point' he and her friend would call it, seeing as it was pretty much the mid way between the two houses. It was a fair sized lot, probably as large as a small park. No one owned it, and a lot of people avoided it. The grass was long and unkept, and in the middle of it was a large oak tree that was really creepy. It was early fall right now, so it was not too creepy, there was a canopy of green leaves grown on it.

Out of plain curiosity, the dark-haired teen checked her watch for the time. Eight thirty. Chances were that her friend wasn't even awake yet. There were some kids around her age playing basketball at the concrete pad in the park over there, but she knew that _she_, at least, still had a couple of hours to kill. Looking once more at the empty lot, she knew the perfect thing to do to pass the time.

She found the well-worn path that her and her friend had used numerous times over the years without any problem and navigated her way to the base of the old tree. The girl looked up its height and began to climb it to her favourite branch. It was a large branch, curved like a seat. She often climbed up here when she needed to just sit and think, or if she just had nothing else to do, like now. She had not climbed to her branch in a long time, she had all but forgotten that it existed until now.

Lounging as the ocean breeze washed over her relaxed form, the teen girl reached into her pack, still slung over her shoulder, and pulled out the novel that she was currently in the process of reading. As she found the place she had marked as last being, she took a moment to look around once more. Nothing had changed, quite obviously, as there had not been enough time for anything _to _change. Or was there? Now that she was on a train of thought about it, she no longer could see the kids in the park playing basketball, and nor could she hear them anymore. It hadn't been but a minute, so she knew that she could not have gotten very far, even if they had decided to leave the very moment that the girl had taken her eyes off of them.

She sighed. Of coarse, there was really nothing that could be done about that particular situation on her part except worry about it, and she really hated to worry about trivial problems, even though she often did worry about trivial problems. That was probably why she hated trivial problems so much. And that, in turn, is why she turned almost immediately back to her book, so she could worry about the story, instead of trivial problems.

In all this time that she spent worrying over not worrying about trivial problems, the teen did not notice the breeze from the ocean steadily pick up and become a wind. Her long, loose hair was blowing across her face, but she disregarded this and continued to read the story that spilled out over the pages of her book. She simply tucked her hair back behind her ear, and when the wind came stronger and colder. Shivers racked through her body mercilessly, so she decided to put her book down for a moment to put her hoodie on.

Suddenly, the wind picked up from out of nowhere. The black-haired teen thought this to be weird. Even though she lived right on the coast, nothing like this _ever_ came that unexpectedly. By all rights, it was almost a gale. In fact, the wind was so strong, that the only thing that she had seen that was stronger than this was the typhoon that had come for a visit when she was six.

She quickly put her book away inside her duffel bag at the thought of the possibility of her worst fears and went to get out of the tree. If this was indeed a typhoon (highly unlikely, but still possible), stuck up in tree would not be a very good place to be. Although, the high winds made actually getting out of the tree and climbing down a very difficult job.

Sooner than she could comprehend, her sneakered foot slipped on a loose piece of bark and the sstrong winds finished the already started job and sent her effortlessly plummeting back down to Earth. She did not even have the time to put her hands up in front of her face. As she landed harshly, her head roughly smashed down upon a rock protruding from the ground.

She attempted to get up, though she found that her surroundings were spinning, and also going in and out of focus. Or was it her that was spinning and going in and out of focus? No matter, her condition was soon worsening as hallucinations of a grassy, barren, dry land appeared before her. She tried to shake the image from her head, but it was only replace by darkness and she knew little more.

A young man in his early twenties whispered calmingly to the sandy brown horse that he often thought of as his own. The young mare was a loyal companion to him in his often dangerous errands. And, as the Captain of the nation's royal guard and army, he _needed _a loyal companion. The battles that increasingly occurred in these lands were absolutely deadly. Almost every time, he lost more men to these horrific battles that seemed more like carnages than anything else. So far, he had been exceedinly lucky, but that was mostly due in part to the horse before him.

But now, she was whining anxiously from the insanely strong wind that had unexpectedly blown in from nowhere, it seemed. It was almost always windy here due the mountain range they were at the base of, but this... this was unheard of.

Other men were also in the stables, attempting desperately to calm the many other war horses that were whining uncontrollably.

The man smiled inwardly. How ironic it was, that these horses were the finest bred anywhere to be found. They could stand the most frightening of battles, against the most horrid of creatures, yet they were easily spooked by a bit of unexpected wind. Minding that this was a bit more than just a bit of wind.

The worst of the scenario; this hectic behaviour was greatly hindering their efforts to aid a village that was currently under an unfair siege. This village was a defenceless farming community. They had no warring tools, or even soldiers place out near there at stations. He would not at all be surprised if they arrived at the sight of a small massacre.

Then, by some miracle, the wind slowly calmed, and in due turn, so did the horses. Now they would be able to ride out and meet these foes.

The young man quickly mounted the brown mare and signalled for his men to follow and meet him just outside the stables. As he passed by each one, he saw the fear on the faces of every man. Though they were all soldiers, they still held the mortal fear of death. Not any one of them wanted to die on this day, or any other for that matter. He was no different.

This was not in any way fair for any one of these men. Most had wives, and also children. Though he himself had neither, he still felt for them and always silently vowed to himself that he would do all that he possibly could to keep as many of his men as he could alive. He absolutely dreaded coming back and seeing the faces of the women, young and old, who had just found out that they were now widows. It made him sad, yes, but he knew that nothing he could say would comfort any one of them, so he simply did not bother in saying anything at all.

The rest of them men soon gathered and they were off to see how many lives could yet be spared.

If any at all.

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Well, thank all you kind folks for your time. Plz, review and whatever else. It might be quite some time before I post another chapter, so dont hold your breath.

Hey, at least I'm honest.

And now I'm out!


	2. Not At Home

Wow, totally great to be back and running! I am SOOOOO sorry that it took so long to update, i've just been really busy // i know, thats got to be the oldest excuse in the book, right// well, its true, so there // also, I've been lacking inspiration and patience for the second chapter // i've written about seven other chapters, but the second one didn't want to come out of my head //

**Warnings // **Violence, mostly...Dark at times, there might be some drug reference and language, but I think that's it

**Disclaimer // **Again, nothing LotR belongs to me, that's all Tolkein's wonderful imagination. I own the still nameless girl.

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**Little Faith**

**Chapter Two: Not At Home**

The wind had subsided greatly, but was still there. She could feel her soft hair lightly gliding over her face, strand by strand. It rather tickled, actually. She tried to wipe those strands behind her ear, though she could not find the strength to move her limbs.

As she continued to breathe and take in her blind surroundings, the more she found that she was nowhere near her home. There was not the feeling of the ocean around her, the air was too dry, and the atmosphere was so thin. It was if she was somewhere more inland, like Montana or Ohio. There were no gulls her, crying for fish, and nor was there the sound of the waves crashing down upon the shore.

However, there was also something else about this place that was far different from anything she had ever experienced before.

The tickling sensation then returned to her face, but this time it was not from her hair. It was something else, scratching at her face almost. It moved with the wind, also, recoiling with the wind, and then returning along side it.

It was then that she opened her eyes. At first she had to shut them quickly, and then wait as they gradually adjusted to the bright sunlight shining down from the sky. Once her eyes did finally adjust, she sat up and took in her surroundings. It seemed that she was in a sort of grassland, or prairie. Definitely not Seattle.

The grass around her was rather long, dry and yellow. The slight wind around her was blowing it to and fro.

Wind . . .

It was what had caused this. She figured that the strange wind from nowhere earlier was somehow connected to her being brought here. Wherever 'here' was.

That was another thing; she was in the middle of absolute nowhere. If there was anything common sense had taught her, it was that she was in a really lousy situation. Alone in a desolate, barren land without either food or drink; a complete fool's errand!

She really needed to find a town or city, or even a river to survive. Not to mention the fact that she needed to get home. Not that her situation was at all yet dire (for all she knew, there could've been a town or something right over the hill), but still, the sooner she found help, the better.

Mustering up whatever energy she had, the girl slowly climbed to her feet and gathered up her bag onto her shoulder. Well, if she was going to find some help, she was going to have to start walking. From where the Sun was in the sky, she guessed that it was already mid to late afternoon. In a few hours, the Sun, due to the time of the year, would set on her.

She sighed, trying not to think too much on her situation, and started walking.

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It was already late afternoon when the riders saw the distressed town on the horizon. The Captain sighed as he led the rest of the men onwards. There was a very small chance that there would be any survivors now. Perhaps a few lucky had managed to hide from their assailants, but even then, they were probably found and killed regardless. 

As their large party came steadily came closer to the village, the Captain heard something for a short moment that brought a horrific reality to him. In case his fears were true, he readied his lance for battle. He knew that either way, nightmare foes or just the normal ones, they would attack this company from hiding most likely.

It took only a few more minutes to reach the village, and what the riders saw shocked them. There were so many laying here dead, that it seemed as if the entire village had been slain. The forty riders grouped in the centre area of the town. So far, no one had seen any of those whom had attacked these people, only those who were attacked.

The idea that these foes had gone on in search of new prey then entered the Captain's head and he hoped that was the case.

"Search for survivors!" the Captain shouted to the rest of the riders, "We will bury the dead after!" And with that, he dismounted the mare he had come on so he better search the area.

Some of the small homes had been set afire. Some doors had been broken down, and even the crop shed was now in sorry shape. Not only had people been slaughtered, there were dead horses and livestock lying on the ground as well. People were killed trying to flee their homes, trying to save their families, in every which way that was thought possible. The grass shone red in the late afternoon sun with the blood shed here, even on the sides of the stables, reaching as high as the over hang from the roof. This was truly a nightmare.

"Captain!"

The young man turned his head sharply at the call of his title. He saw his second in command hurrying over to him, no doubt bearing news of what ever survivors were left.

"Sir," the man addressed him, "The men have searched this village and its vicinity, but there were no survivors found. It's likely that they were attacked by a band of Uruks."

The Captain nodded, dismissing the man. It was as he feared, there were no survivors. Those creatures must have stayed around even to dispatch any stragglers, or villagers who were well enough to run from here. Even worse, it _was _a band of Uruk Hai who had staged the attack. He had his suspicions from the beginning, but for it to be truth...

He sighed, there was nothing he could do now. "Gather the dead. We will treat them with the respect they deserve."

Leaving his second in command with his orders, the young Captain turned, overwhelmed with the disappointment of not arriving in time.

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Hours after her perilous journey began, the young girl found herself in the same position as she was in several hours ago. Only now, the Sun was getting lower and lower in the sky, and there hadn't been so much as a candy wrapper pass her by. She still had a few hours until Sun-down, and after that... Well, she didn't want it to have to come to that. 

She was still walking through the same prairie as she was before, there had been a sudden appearance of rocks protruding from the ground in often the most inconvenient of places. She had come across a stream or two on her trip, and nearly walked into a ravine that would have made short work of her life, but nothing beyond that.

Briefly, the teen had wondered what her parents must be thinking about her sudden disappearance, and even that maybe they might put a call in to the police. It would have put her chances of being found sooner up a dozen times over, were it not for the note she left telling them she went to her friend's house. Knowing them, they wouldn't actually check to make sure she made it there; they would simply assume and go smoke some weed.

"Whatever. " she hissed to herself, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. This whole thing was slowly pissing her off. Not knowing what was going on, not knowing how to get out, and just plain old not knowing what to do. Not even the damn wind would back off!

Brushing a few dark strands of hair out of her face, she sat down on a nearby rock and buried her head in her hands. She didn't even bother trying to figure out where she was or how she got here. The only thing that mattered was how she was going to survive. It may have sounded a little extreme, but that was what it was coming down to if she didn't accidentally stumble upon some help.

She had a water bottle, and half a granola bar in the bottom of her bag for sustenance, and beyond that she was screwed. No doubt the night was going to be cold, and all she had was her hoodie for any real warmth. And not to mention the fact that she had no idea what kind of wild animals this place would hold. She'd seen some small rodents and birds around, so she guessed the regular prairie-type animals, coyotes, foxes, deer, that sort of thing. Not a lot to worry about if she was right, but there was as good a chance as any that she wasn't. And that was what worried her.

It was just as she sighed for the second time, when she felt a sickeningly warm breath on the back of her neck, accompanied by a menacing growl and a sadistic gurgling laugh.

"Now look a' wha' we 'ave 'ere, " a strange voice came from behind her, "Some dumb li'l maiden ou' 'ere all by 'erself."

Not pausing for even a moment, the girl sprang to her feet and whipped around to see just who, or what, had found her.

It was something that she would have only ever dreamed to see in fairy tale books, one of the many nameless minions of some great, powerful antagonist. Its skin was an indefinable color, somewhere between olive green and a dirty brown, and the face on this disgusting creature... The thing looked as if it had been tortured and mutilated endlessly.

And the beast it was mounted on. It was even more terrible and frightening than the creature sitting atop it. She had no idea what

it possibly could have been. It looked like some sort of bear or wolf, yet, the goblin-like creature was sitting on like one would a horse. The beast was enormous, almost as high as any horse, and at least six times as powerful. Its nose looked squished to its face, and its lip curled viciously to reveal a set of very dangerous looking teeth. 

There was no way she was surviving this one.

It lunged toward her before she even got the chance to move. Dread flooded her being once more, as she felt the sharp stings of the beast's claws dig into her flesh, tearing her clothes. The laughter of the rider made her heart sink even further, as if it were spelling out her own death right before her very eyes.

She screamed. She didn't want to, but she couldn't stop herself from doing so. She had always thought herself to be a tough person, though she had never imagined encountering anything like this before. After all, who in their right mind would? It didn't matter to her anymore, being tough or keeping some dumb facade. She was going to die, so why bother putting any effort into something no one would ever remember her for?

The girl shut her eyes, keeping them clamped, so she could perhaps try to die with some sense of peace, instead of with visions of monstrosity. It was a sudden and almost frightening thing when she felt the beast back away. Opening her eyes and painfully moving her arms down from her face, she saw that the creature was staring down at her from its mount, grinning sadistically. That confirmed it. This thing wasn't going to let her die so easily; it was going to torture her first.

"You gonna beg fer yer life, 'ere?" it laughed at her, "'Ope tha' maybe I won' kill ya?"

She didn't say anything. There was nothing that she could say. Nothing was going to save her, so maybe if she just stayed shut up, it would get bored of her and just kill her. Without any fight, and minimal pain. Almost comfortably, some might say. Just the opposite of what she used to say, the way she used to brag. Never go down without a fight. It was pretty much her motto.

She wasn't going to prove anything to anyone else. Just herself.

Taking the opportunity, and the element of surprise, she was shocked to find that she was actually able to ignore the immense pain flooding through her as she forced herself to her feet somewhat, running away from the creature and its beast. It might have not been willing to let her die easily, but she wasn't going to let it have her so easily.

Her foolish display of courage didn't last for long. She heard the creature's laughter once more, intensified, before the familiar sting of the beast's claw bit into her back this time. At least she could die with _some_ shred of dignity, knowing that she had at least tried.

Somehow, she managed to roll onto her back, just in time to see the beast open its huge jaws, exposing its terrifying teeth and letting out a chilling roar. The girl couldn't help but notice how bad the breath was. An amusing thought, coming from a dying girl. She didn't close her eyes again, but rather stared right back at her killers. She wasn't going to die comfortably, that was already decided.

It was when she turned her head, by some amazing chance, that she felt the weight of the beast once again leave her body, not moments before she saw them. A complete miracle. She didn't know who they were, or if they were friend or foe, or even if they were real. But at that moment, she didn't care. All she knew is that they were the reason the beast left her, the reason her pain was leaving her.

They must have been angels, there was no other explanation. Angels, their marvellous flag erected in the flesh of the beast that had attacked her, cleansing the world of its evil. Angels, who stopped that horrifying creature from taking her soul with their golden arrows.

Angels, whose captain descended upon her, yelling commands to his men, while picking her up and taking her soul to heaven...


	3. Rescues and Wake Up Calls

_Wow, so another chapter of crazy insanity, is it? Oh well, you all knew what it was going to be like before you got here. Ok, so I meant to leave a note at the end of my last chap, saying that she didn't actually die, but the thing went all screwy on me, and I'm really sorry if anyone was confused by it. I know I would have been. So, I'm really happy to be recieving the reviews and hits that I've been getting, but I'm gonna admit that I'm selfish, and I would really love it if more ppl would review. Really, anything (but flames) really keep me going. Not that I won't, but I go faster when I get them. I really wanna know how I'm doing, and what sorta things I could do to make this thing better. So long as its told to me in a constructive manner, no flames._

**/Warnings/ **The normal. Language, drug ref, darkness, that sorta stuff. More mature teen, but not severe enough to be M.

**/Disclaimers/** I seriously own nothing to do with LotR or middle earth or anything like that. Its all belongs to Tolkein. I just borrow it when he doesn't need it.

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**Little Faith**

**Chapter Three: Rescues and Wake Up Calls**

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He urged his men to gallop on. Night fall was nearing and he wanted to make it back to the capitol as soon as they could, hopefully before the Sun had disappeared completely. It wasn't that his company were venerable to the elements by any account, they were all hardened warriors. Soldiers whom had all willingly shed blood and endured pain for their country.

More so, it was the frail woman riding with him, in his arms. She was unconscious, to little surprise. The injuries she'd sustained were gruesome, he was honestly amazed that she had even managed to survive such an attack. No matter how close to death she still tread.

That was why they needed to make haste. To save this strange girl, the lonely survivor, of all the day's victims. Of all that he had done wrong, hesitated, slackened his command, this one, pale girl would be the saviour of his will to carry on with his duties. His men wished to save her to know of her origins, her clothing and belongings obviously distinguishing her from any peoples any of them had ever known to inhabit Middle Earth. He needed to save her. He needed salvation.

If it were not for the fact that they had heard her cries, only to come across this woman being viciously attacked by that scout, he doubted that he would have felt little reason to push on from his today's failures. The very people he had sworn his life to protect, needed him, and he had let them all down. Not one single survivor from that village. They were all slaughtered before he had even had a chance to react. But if she made it... well, then his cause wasn't at a complete loss.

So he urged his men to push forward.

* * *

So much death, the air was heavy and reeked of it. This young cavalry captain wasn't sure what to make of it all. Everywhere he looked, his men wore sombre faces as they collected the dead for proper burial. No one had survived this onslaught, every hut and barn had been checked, not even the smallest child was found.

So he gave the command to burn the remainder of the destroyed buildings, after they had extracted the dead civilians. There was one building that had hardly been touched, a small shed that stood a few yards from the main part of the village, would stay standing in their wake. They would bury the dead before it.

He wasn't sure if this was the right decision or not, but he stuck to it, and no one questioned his authority. He'd once heard that his father had done the same thing, when he was alive, and no one had criticized the decision then. It was time for him to once again follow in his father's footsteps.

They buried the dead villagers as per custom in their country. Burning was reserved for an enemies body; but a loved one, someone who deserved it, was to return to the earth. It was the way it had always been in their country.

A few mounds were left standing, the only proof that a whole village was dead and buried. The small building only proved that people had ever lived there.

The sun was already starting to go down by the time the captain and his company left newly buried victims, the once agriculturally prosperous village burning to the ground behind them. A sad reminder of their country's desperate situation.

It wasn't as if the nation was poor, but their King was taking ill, his age not being kind to him. There were enemies, just as there always had been, but now they were coming in greater number and with renewed aggression. Allies they once had, were lost to ancient truces and words long forgotten. Time had long erased any traces of friendship once held with neighbouring nations, and the allies that remained, hid behind masks of deceit, thirsty for power.

When the scream cut through to the captain, he almost thought that it was his country crying out for his aid. That would not be the case, as his men looked to him for course of action.

He turned his company, veering off their path in search of the distress that was surely to accompany the scream.

It didn't take many hills to hide the gruesome assault that was taking place. A young woman, alone by the looks of it, was being attacked by a lonesome warg rider. No doubt a scout, likely from the group that had taken the sleepy village by storm. She didn't stand a chance against the orc and its mount. She was being overpowered, and the captain knew that if he didn't intervene, there would be another innocent casualty on his hands.

His spear flew from his hand, without him hardly noticing, striking the warg. It had the woman pinned to the ground, about to deal her the killing blow. He rushed forward with his company, a man beside him sending a quick arrow to neutralize the orc before it could do any further harm.

There was nothing to be said for the woman. She was not dead, but she was barely living.

* * *

"Lord Eomer!"

The captain shook with a start from his mindful stupor. He had been so entirely concentrated on the woman in his arms, that little else took notice in his mind.

"Yes?" he replied, turning to his second in command.

"Edoras is approaching on the horizon." Came the answer.

Eomer turned his head, pleased to see that the man had been right. The Sun was nearly set, but he had taken his company so close, it hardly mattered in his mind. He only hoped that it still wasn't too late.

Though the woman's wounds weren't immediately a huge threat to her life, much of the blood flow had stemmed, but infection was a definite threat still. He knew from experience that if wounds like those, especially from a beast such as the one that had attacked her, were not treated soon after, then raging infection would be right around the corner.

He knew they would reach Edoras soon, but to him, it really didn't seem soon enough.

* * *

"Heal her."

It was the only instruction he gave to the servant when he pushed through the large doors, leading into Meduseld. The middle-aged woman eyed him strangely, not sure if she should do as he said or not.

He soon became impatient however, and pushed past her – the girl still in his arms – in search of a healer himself. A small moan escaped her pale lips, gaining his attention once more. He didn't look down at her this time, he only continued forward through the central forum. People who had previously been milling about, stopped in what ever they were doing to watch him, carrying this strange girl to help.

Éomer ignored them. He ignored their questioning gazes, their hushed whispers, and their disapproving dispositions. It wasn't their place to question him at any rate; his decisions, by far, outranked their opinions. He didn't care what they thought.

Frantic footsteps came from behind him, following him through the court. "Éomer!" he would have cringed at the anger in the familiar voice if he wasn't so determined.

He only stopped when he saw his sister step into his path. "What are you doing?!" she demanded, anger and confusion written all over her face.

"Get out of my way, Éowyn," he said blankly, brushing past her as well, continuing down the Golden Hall. This girl wasn't going to last long without help, and he wasn't about to let anyone – not even his sister – keep that help from reaching her.

"You don't even know who this girl is!" Éowyn protested, keeping up with his long strides, "She could be a spy! Look at her!"

"Exactly. If she is, I want to know, and why she was in our lands," Éomer explained plainly, the lie coming out effortlessly. They turned the corner, continuing down a more narrow hall, branching off from the main of the building. "And if she really _is_ a spy," he continued on when he noticed his sisters mouth open in protest once more, "Then it would be better off for her to be here, where I and the other Riders can keep an eye on her while she is recovering, no?"

This abruptly silenced her objection, but another soon came to her mind. "And what of your men? What do the think of this? And Gamling? What of our uncle?" she pressed the matter. The two of them came to a hault just outside the healing chambers.

"Why do you insist on questioning my every decision, dear sister?" he said smootly, lowly. Almost a threat.

"Someone has to look out for this country." She hissed at him, fear over this new girl blantant on her features, "The men-"

"The men trust my decisions, and my actions. As does Gamling." Éomer cut her off sharply, "Our uncle . . ." He could not finish his sentance. "He would trust me as well." The words were not what he had originally wanted to say, but they accomplished what he had intended.

Éowyn knew that there was little she could do sway her brother's opinion. She knew him to be unbelieveably stubborn; she could even sway him through the use of court law. This was a military matter, and she had almost no influence there compared to his brother. She watched him defiantly as he turned, taking the strange girl into the healing chambers, and followed him almost immediately, a curtain of white-gold hair flying behind her.

The young captain was careful as he layed this fragile girl down on one of the beds. Healers immediately rushed over at the sight of her, a torrent of questions and inquiries thrust into the young man's direction. He instinctively took a step back from the bed, reeling slightly from his own personal surprise attack.

Who was she? What land did she come from? Well, he certainly had no idea. How did she end up here? What had happened to her? An attack . . . What kind of attack? What happened? Who was involved? How was he to know? All he did was rescue the poor girl. She needed treatment, so treat her already!

"We need to know what happened, my lord," the eldest woman, the most experience healer present, said to him as they stood aside from the bed. The other healers were already at work, stripping the girl of her tattered clothing, "Or else we cannot help her."

Éomer quickly adverted his gaze from the girl in embarrassment, noticing how quickly the healers had been in removing most of her clothing. Gazing at a spot on the floor, he hastily answered the woman, "She was attacked by a warg rider, out on the plains. My men and I came across her on our ride back early this afternoon. It was all we could do to stop the beast from finishing her," he answered honestly, "I know little else of her. She was already unconscious when we got to her."

The senior healer nodded, accepting his explanation, before turning back to her duties.

"Éomer!""

His head turned swiftly at his sister's call. She stood at a table on the far side of the room, deftly searching through a sack which he recognized as the one his men had found when they came across the girl. They had all deemed it safe to assume that it belonged to her, as it looked as strange as she did. He walked over to his sister, figuring that one of his men must have brought the thing in while he was talking to the healers.

"What is it?" he questioned, noticing Éowyn's distressed expression.

"Look at this," she told him, gesturing toward the bag and its contents, "I've never seen anything like this before!"

Éomer followed his sister's gaze, just able to stop himself from gasping in surprise at what he saw. Items like nothing he had ever witnessed before. Garments similar to the ones she had been wearing, he lifted them up, examining them with care. Her leggings were thick and coarse, dark blue in color, and seemed impossibly uncomfortable to wear. The tunic he found was small, and brightly colored with foreign graphics printed on the front. It looked too small to even fit a person.

"What is all of this?" Éowyn question in confusion. She had been handling a book of sorts, flipping through the pages, revealing a number of detailed drawings, many of them of things she did not recognize.

Éomer was at a loss for words. This girl was strange. She was not from Rohan, or any other realm he had come to know. He was not even sure is she was, in fact, from Middle-earth even. He wanted to know who she was, where she was from . . . so many questions he had for her. He only hoped she would survive to answer them. . .

"My lord!"

The voices of the healers were frantic suddenly. Both siblings turned their heads to see what the problem was. They saw the healers rushing around, muttering in a panic to one another. Beyond them, a weak cry was heard.

Éomer rushed forward when he realized that the girl had woken up. He pushed through the healers, and saw he tossing in pain on the small bed of the healing ward. Her face scrunched up painfully, moans ripping through her throat as she struggled to comprehend.

Her eyes opened suddenly, widened in horror, her breathing ragged, her voice crying in terror. Éomer figured that her mind must have still been caught up in the memories of the attack. He noticed her gaze had focused on him, but only for a moment, as she must have realized that she was no longer in any immediate danger. Her eyelids shut once more, her face still scrunched as she struggled to determine what was happening to her.

"Wh – Where . . . am I?" she asked in broken speech. Her voice was small, airy almost in her struggle to speak.

"You're safe," Éomer quickly answered, hoping that she could hear him. He was glad she was familiar in the common tongue. He didn't know what land she had come from, forget what tongue she spoke. This new information relieved him greatly. "Who are you?" He wanted to know so much about her.

Her eyes opened again. He now saw confusion written in her expression. He was not much surprised. In fact, he was more surprised at the fact that she was comprehensive of anything in her current state.

"Faith . . ."

She managed to utter one last word, her name Éomer assumed, before her eyes rolled back into her head, and she passed once more into a state of unconsciousness.

* * *

_Woot! Another chappie done. Again, I'm really sorry that it takes me so long to update, but things really do get busy in my life . . . school and work and all that other great stuff. Not to mention, all the editting I do on these things so I'm not rambling . . ._

_- - kat - -_


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